


Of Wormwood and Oak Trees

by ExplodedStars



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Darkling Woods, Fluff, Grief, In The Woods, M/M, One Shot, One shot?, Our House in the Woods, Post-Uther's Death, Secret hut, Setting, Wishful Thinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:08:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27299983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExplodedStars/pseuds/ExplodedStars
Summary: Being a king stresses Arthur out. He needs a place to go to get some peace. Some place no one else can know about. Except Merlin, of course
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Morgana (Merlin), Morgana/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 63





	Of Wormwood and Oak Trees

☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎

"...and this is it!"

"Here?" Merlin's eyes follow the king. Through the canopy of branches that hangs overhead, rays of sunlight spill onto Arthur, decorating his face like golden embroidery. In the light, he looks ethereal. Merlin arrived in the king's chambers this morning to a suspiciously joyous Arthur who immediately announced that they were going for a trip. Merlin couldn't even convince him to change out of his night tunic before Arthur dragged him off and out into the Darkling Woods.

But now as the diamond-eyed boy gazed up in awe at the water cascading from the end of a stream on higher ground, amidst the welcoming shade of the trees, nothing could be more fitting on him than the flowy white tunic. "Yes, Merlin. Like this." The king and his wishful grin look to Merlin. His unusually chirpy mood urges the suspicion that the king is day-drunk, "You don't like it?"

The pair stand in a clearing, surrounded by the greenest of trees, the breeze carries with it the sweet rhythm of songbirds, accompanied by the rushing water of the stream. Pond skaters skim the water's surface and blooming orange thalias and irises frame the scene. It's more beautiful than any place Merlin's ever seen. "No, I do. It's beautiful."

"Exactly!" Arthur stretches out his arms, taking in a deep breath of the place.

"It just doesn't seem like the sort of place you would normally be drawn to."

This is true, Arthur admits to himself. If he first came to this place on a hunting trip, or while patrolling, he would never have fallen in love with its subtle beauty. But when his life turned upside down after Morgana revealed her truth to him, he looked for comfort in anything and everything. Everywhere he went, he yearned for a feeling of familiarity. He needed something to tell him that the world hadn't been stripped bare of everything he thought he knew. That not everything he loved and understood was a lie.

Little by little, his life was being pulled apart, one thread at a time. The strings had begun to come loose when Gaius revealed to him that Morgana was not just Uther's ward, but his daughter. When Morgana told him that she had magic just a few months later, Merlin was the first person Arthur went to. No one else would understand the confusion and anger he felt. When he realised that his loyal manservant had already known about his sister's powers, Arthur was furious.

It seemed that everyone he cared about was betraying him, one after the other.

It took almost an entire year of solitude for Arthur to understand that their deception was not disloyalty, but fear. Uther was wrong about magic. It was not something to be feared, but something to be nurtured. It was in this year of truth-searching that he first began taking rides into the woods alone. There he could be alone with his thoughts. He could see that there was still beauty in the world, despite all that had changed. He realised, the trees of these woods had seen so many more troubles than him–wars, battles, lies, secrets, betrayal–and yet, they remained. Majestic and beautiful.

In those few months, Arthur sought out the most beautiful areas of the Darkling Woods, and as he did, he decided that if the millennia-old trees were strong enough to live on in beauty, he too, could overcome his pain.

"Arthur?" Merlin shakes the kings shoulders gently, "Are you okay? I didn't mean that you can't see beauty. Of course you can, it's just that you're not norma－"

"Shut up, Merlin. I know what you mean."

In the months that Arthur spent alone, he attempted to go without Merlin's company. In fact, he did, if only for two weeks. But he certainly couldn't tend to everything himself, and no other manservant was quite the same. And it wasn't just about needing a manservant. Merlin was a friend. No, he was more than that. He was to only person Arthur really trusted, even after what he'd done. And he always knew exactly what to say, what to do, when Arthur was troubled. He could distract him from his sadness. No one else could do that. The first months were rather awkward between the two. Quieter. But by the fourth month, everything was more or less normal again. Arthur had pretty much forgotten about what Merlin had done.

But Merlin, tender-hearted as he was, still regretted the hurt he'd caused Arthur. "I just want things to go back to how it was before," he whispers it so quietly that Arthur can barely make it out.

With a heavy sigh, the king seats himself on a rock by the water's edge, "Me too," the king murmurs.Merlin plops down on the ground next to him, pulling off his boots to soak his feet in the water. For a few minutes, they sit there in silence, listening to the unquiet silence of the place, watching as a school of minnows flock to Merlin's toes.

Arthur quietly watches as the corner of the boy's lips twitch upwards as the fish tickle his feet. Tufts of his dark overgrown hair dresses the back of his neck, in desperate need of a trim. A timid smile lightens the king's face as he remember the last time he dragged Merlin to Gaius for a haircut. Merlin had whined and groaned and muttered all sorts of things that Arthur should have thrown him in the dungeons for. Secretly, Arthur liked his scruffy dark locks too, but he knew they'd soon be as long as Morgana's if he didn't do something about it. In a way, Arthur tended to Merlin like Merlin did for him.

"Well Merlin? What do you think? Is it a good spot?"

"It's perfect."

"I knew you'd like it!" Arthur's eyes light up as he grins,"I can already imagine it, just a little wooden hut, right over there." He points across to a spot under the boughs of a giant willow tree, "And you can decorate it however way you want, Merlin. Hell, you could even stay here, instead of Gaius' chambers! Get you out of his hair."

Arthur had always wanted to live out somewhere far from anywhere. A farm maybe, or a cabin by the sea. But a hut in the woods was the most practical option, being just a short ride from Camelot, but still being detached from the town itself. It wasn't a place for him to stay all the time, just on those days that he felt he needed to escape. As much as it was for himself, it was secretly for Merlin too.

The king knew Merlin's love for nature, and how much he craved a home outside of the bustling alleyways of Camelot. As much as Merlin loved people, it could never compare to his love for the earth itself, and all its critters and plants.

Merlin springs to his feet, drenching Arthur with a generous splash, "Wait. This is for me?" Merlin grins at the king.

Arthur can feel the heat ruching to his cheeks and tries desperately to cover it up by wringing out his soaking tunic,"Oh, please Merlin, don't flatter yourself. It's not for you. I just need someone to maintain it, is all."

"Yeah right! I can't believe you're building a house! For me!"

"Shut up, Merlin! I swear I won't let you inside if you don't quit this thoughtless rambling right now." Arthur rises to his feet, giving up on his tunic and walking back to mount his horse, "Look what you've done to my tunic, you idiot."

Merlin beams the whole ride back into Camelot, letting Arthur ride ahead of him to conceal his own satisfied smile. It's not for him, the young king mumbles to himself as he trots his horse through the trees, It's for both of us.

☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎

Over the next few weeks, both Merlin and Arthur worked hectically to sort out the construction of the hut. They had to make sure to hire carpenters and roofers from faraway kingdoms and spent countless hours arguing over how the hut should be built and what should be put in it. Often, the royal servant overheard loud bickering from Arthur's chambers, "THE SLEEPING CHAMBERS CAN'T TAKE UP HALF THE HOUSE ARTHUR!" and "FOUR CHAIRS FOR WHO, MERLIN? WHO'S GOING TO USE FOUR CHAIRS?" Often the manservant and his king would end up passing out over designs of the hut and lists of items to buy. After the first few times, even Gaius stopped worrying that Merlin never even came home some nights.

The fourth week in, carpenters had begun working on their little hovel and the pair were so overjoyed that most of the day was spent sneaking out of Camelot to see the hovel taking shape. Arthur even received a stern talk from Gaius about the number of council meetings he was missing. Merlin was repeatedly being prodded and interrogated by both Gaius and the knights, as well as Morgana and Gwen, about what the boys were up to, but neither of the two let a word slip about their plans.

The final day of work comes on the last day of the second month. The king is too giddy to sleep. He jumps around his chambers, describing how he plans to decorate the place, "And I know you love flowers, so we can put flowers on the windowsill like I've seen in those houses in the lower––" Arthur trails off as he notices an exhausted Merlin passed out on his dining table.

Understandable, Arthur thinks, Merlin has been working his arse off, especially in the last few days. At least it will all be worth it in less than a day. Merlin's head rest on his arm, the golden glow of candles in front of him illuminating the sharp curves of his face. The boy's skin is so pale that in the dark of the night, he seems to be glowing.The king watches Merlin's hair––still outgrown––fly up and down, disturbed by the boy's heavy breath. Hesitantly, he walks to where Merlin lies and ever so gently moves the flailing tuft of hair to the side. Arthur hold his breath as Merlin sniffs and shuffles his head, the lousy strand of hair falling back in his line of breath.

Arthur shakes his head and bites down on his knuckles, a failed attempt at stifling a chuckle. The sound startles Merlin out of his peaceful and with a yelp leaps to attention. It takes a minute for him to register where he is and by then Arthur is doubled over with laughter.

"What? What happened? Was I drooling?" The confused boy wipes at his chin. Perplexed as he is, a goofy smile erupts on his face as he watched Arthur's hysterics–– it's been so long since he's seen the king so happy. Arthur clutches his sides chortling as he hits the ground and soon Merlin joins in, until they both roll on the floor in fits of laughter. When they come to, the pair are lying on the floor side by side, heaving heavily on their backs, "What was that all about?"

"I don't know. I guess I'm just happy," the king sighs.

"So am I."

In quiet joy, the pair lay there, smiling at the ceiling like a couple of madmen. The overhead carvings had always been the gem of Arthur's chambers. While the rest of the room was plainly constructed, decorated with a bunch of flowers here and there, the ceiling was a masterpiece on its own. And tonight, its beauty seemed to radiate and to fill the atmosphere. Arthur's eyes trailed over the beautiful golden flowers carved delicately into the stone, twisting and twirling in spirals around the majestic dragon of the Pendragon crest. Intricate patterns of oak trees and wormwood adorned the edges of coving where they met the walls.

Oak trees and... Merlin had never noticed it before, "Hey, is that wormwood?" Merlin points up to the corner of the room.

"Yes," Arthur answers sheepishly, twisting his head to face Merlin, "why?"

Merlin is vaguely reminded of Gaius' story about the ancient sorcerers who were once many among the masons of Camelot. About the myth that they entwined prophecies about the coming of Albion into the very essence of Camelot, "I just don't remember seeing it there."

Arthur watches the way his friend's face scrunches up deep in thought, "It's always been there. I never could guess why. What's so special about wormwood anyway?"

"Yes, it's rather strange." Merlin puts his mind at rest, deciding that he's being paranoid. He flips himself around onto his stomach, bringing him closer to Arthur so that their feet touch ever so slightly. He rests his head on his hands and watches as Arthur's eyes fall on the lock of hair that has settled in front of Merlin's eyes again. The king frowns and pulls it back, determined to keep it tucked behind his manservant's ear this time.

"You need a haircut."

"Over my dead body,"

"I doubt you'll be that difficult to kill,"

"We'll just have to see about that."

"And afterwards, I can just hide you in my hovel."

"You mean my hovel," Merlin's eyes shine as he cracks a wide smile.

"It's not yours, Merlin. I just said you can stay there to look after it,"

"Fine then. Our hovel," Merlin harrumphs, though a cluster of butterflies erupts in his stomach as he says it. They have a secret hovel, for no one else but them. He looks back up at the ceiling, "Our hovel," he whispers ever so quietly.

A scattering of hills take form on Merlins face as he grins. Arthur tries to ignore these and clears his throat. Merlin begins to nod off again, and Arthur watches him curl into himself.

"Hov..hovel," Merlin mumbles half coherently in his sleep, "Hovel.. our hovel."

"Our hovel," Arthur whispers, letting the joy wash over him. He lets fingers brush over Merlin's cheeks, where the hills of dimples had flattened out, confident that his manservantis too deep in his slumber to notice, "Our hovel."

☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not make this into a bit of a mini-series. Depends on how much you like it. Let me know down below and I'll take all the tips I get.


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